Challenge Set
by loveretriever
Summary: ON HIATUS - Will probably be removed. An old thing I'll dust up later, maybe. Anyway - no hard feelings, right?
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: All characters, names and places belong to JKR. I just wrote this small piece.

A/N: This is my first writing I've posted. My favorite characters are Minerva and Severus. Any comments appreciated since this piece is a trial. By the way, this is an AU piece, so, yes, it may seem OOC or slightly off. Don't worry about it. ^^ If it really bothers you, message me to discuss...otherwise, it's not important. I have made some changes since initial publishing, but they're not major...so no, you don't need to reread unless you really want to...haha

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Challenge Set: Chapter 1

Minerva McGonagall sighed and got up from her desk. She was stuck at the castle reviewing class timetables, lesson plans, and learning the duties associated with being the Head of Gryffindor House. Although she was Acting Head the previous year, this would be the first term she would be the actual Head. Rubbing her eyes, she walked to the window.

It was the beginning of August and she was cooped up indoors. Wistfully looking out her window at the beautiful day, she sighed again in longing. She straightened her light green dress, fixed her hair anew, and exited her rooms. She walked towards the Headmaster's office for their appointment.

When she arrived at the twin gargoyles, they sprang apart before she spoke the password, as if they had been expecting her arrival. She stepped onto the platform and the spiral staircase ascended. Once the platform stopped, she stepped forward and knocked. The great oak doors swung open.

"Come in," Albus Dumbledore called from behind his desk.

"Headmaster –" Minerva started to say, as she walked to the desk and sat in one of the comfy chairs across from Dumbledore.

Dumbledore held up a hand, silencing her. "What did I say? When we're in private, you may call me Albus," he interrupted.

Minerva nodded her head. "Forgive me, Albus." The older man smiled. "You asked to see me?"

Albus nodded. "Yes, Professor –"

"If we're on a first-name basis, you may call me Minerva," she interrupted him, smiling faintly.

Albus's eyes twinkled with merriment. "Very well, Minerva. Yes, I wanted to discuss a few things with you."

"I have completed the timetables as you requested." A true Gryffindor, Minerva was always straightforward, getting to the point right away.

He held up a hand, stopping her from further explanations. "Thank you, Minerva, but I did not mean that."

Minerva frowned slightly. "I have looked over my duties for the upcoming term." She eyed the older man warily.

Albus smiled. "Do you agree?"

She sighed and asked, "This isn't going to be a short chat, is it?"

Albus laughed and, grinning, replied, "Well, no, not exactly." Getting up from his desk, he indicated the fire. "Please, sit and be comfortable. Tea?"

Minerva moved to the comfy plush couch and nodded her head. "Yes, please. Tea would be lovely."

Albus, sitting on the couch next to her, summoned a house elf and requested tea for two. The house elf immediately went to the kitchens and returned with the desired items. Albus thanked the house elf, who again disappeared. Albus then turned to Minerva and served her tea, milk, no sugar, and filled his own cup with plenty of milk and sugar. Minerva smiled, shaking her head slightly at Albus's indulgence of sweets.

Sipping their tea in silence, Albus realized that Minerva was waiting for him to start. Even as a student she had known him well. She would wait on his time for him to divulge the real reason for their meeting.

"Minerva, how many years have you been teaching?" he cautiously asked.

She glanced up at him, surprised. "Technically, this term will be the fourth year of my official teaching." Her mouth quirked into a half grin. "But I have been here for five years."

Albus nodded. "And what do you think, my dear?" He always called her "my dear" when he was serious about something. She stared at his blue eyes. There was no customary twinkle, no sign of emotion. Whatever she said, she had to be serious. Putting down her teacup, she sighed and rubbed her eyes.

"Albus, it has been trying these past two years. My students," she gave him a knowing look, "have been worse behaved than when I attended my first two years!" She placed her head in her hands. "I have tried to stop their mischief, but it seems that Potter's gang is too arrogant for their own good. It's embarrassing the amount of detentions and points lost the lot of them have accumulated! I'm sure just two of them combined have set a new record."

Albus sighed. "My dear, I'm sure they'll grow out of it."

Minerva shook her head. "They need less bias." She gave Albus a disapproving glare. "Albus, they think you approve of them and their antics." Her thin lips became thinner in disgust. "They think that just because you are a Gryffindor they can get away with everything."

"But Minerva, they haven't done anything that could be a legitimate excuse for expulsion."

"What about how they treat Severus Snape?" she shot back. "Don't think I don't see it, Albus. You know what they call him." She shivered. "I thought Miss Evans would help them settle down, or even poor Mr. Lupin. But because of Remus's condition…" her voice trailed off.

Albus patted her knee comfortingly. "But my dear, with Remus gone so often he can't help much."

Minerva nodded in defeat. Then, slamming her fists down on the tea table, she yelled, "And what does Horace do? If Severus had some friends in Slytherin –"

"But he does," Albus said sadly.

"You know what I mean. True friends, Albus. If Potter's gang," she spat in disgust. "If they hadn't singled Severus out the first day, he might have been better off."

Albus sighed, "What can we do?"

"Severus needs more options, Albus. You know about his family?"

Albus nodded silently, face somber.

"Exactly. Even though Horace does his best to keep Severus out of trouble, his Potions grade _is _impeccable, not to mention all the extra assignments keep him busy, it still doesn't help the poor boy socially."

Albus beamed. "I'm glad you take an interest in him."

Minerva regarded Albus coldly. "It's my duty as a teacher, Albus. I have to notice when a student isn't doing well."

Albus frowned. "Were his grades unsatisfactory? Is he slipping?"

"No, Albus," Minerva sighed, feeling like she had to simplify everything for him. "His grades are impeccable in every subject. He keeps his scholarship for yet another year." She took a biscuit in an effort to control her temper. "I meant socially he's not accepted, not even by his fellow Slytherins. They respect him for his good marks and when he helps them in Defense Against the Dark Arts and Potions. But they don't see eye to eye on other issues." She shot him a dark look and grimaced. "If only Horace were around more. His Slug Club might help Severus open up and meet more students, if Horace would accept him." She frowned, thinking about Horace's selective eye. Horace wasn't prejudiced, but he selected candidates based on connections.

"The poor boy is struggling, for sure. But he can't help his half-blood status."

"Yes, but Albus, how do we draw him away from Lucius's crowd?"

Albus shrugged. "Does that matter? Isn't that his choice?"

Minerva abhorred how Albus would dote on Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs, the occasional Ravenclaw, and ignore Slytherins. His bias was so clear even the students knew that Gryffindors got the best end of the stick. "Albus," she reprimanded in her best schoolteacher's voice, "he needs help. Severus needs to know that as his teachers and, yes, as his Headmaster, we are there for him. He needs to know that his has our support, should he need us." She gave Albus a pointed look.

Albus was amused. "And does Mr. Snape deserve this," he struggled for the right word, "chance?" He floundered, looking for the right phrase. "Why should we interfere?"

Minerva was exasperated. "Do you think I don't know? They're saying –" she took a breath to steady herself. Closing her eyes, she steeled herself to say, "Tom's back."

Albus closed his eyes and nodded in assent. "Yes, so I've heard."

"That is why it's imperative we do something _now_, Albus," Minerva pressed.

Albus was more amused, but tried to hide it at such a crucial point in their conversation. "And what do you propose we do for Mr. Snape?"

"Is it possible to give him hope that his teachers, or at least a teacher, and his Headmaster are on his side? Severus thinks we're all out to get him. And no wonder, from the way Potter struts around." She rolled her eyes. "Severus thinks we all side with Potter's insufferable gang. He thinks no one takes Tom's return seriously. You saw him in March how every time the Prophet came, he'd dart out of the Great Hall. You know where he went. He was sick of it. Every time he saw the mark he blanched and ran out. Even if it was a class." She was trembling as she thought about it.

Albus placed a soothing arm around her shoulders. "Now, what do you think you can do for Mr. Snape if, as you say, he doesn't trust us?" Albus gave her a sidelong look as he took a sip of tea.

"We need to show Severus that he is not mutually hated by teachers and students. We need to prove to him that he does have other options. I loathe to think about what his home life is, but he considers Hogwarts a refuge from all that. You see how often he goes to the owlery. He doesn't have his own owl, but he writes once a week, always to his mother. We need him to think of Hogwarts as his home if he is to turn from his current path. He must be treated better in order for him to believe us." She turned to face Albus. "You've seen how he cringes from us when he thinks he's done something bad. He recoils from the other students if he thinks he says something wrong. It's like he expects us to beat him. If he's seen by a Slytherin talking to a student from another House, he hurriedly runs away. He thinks that inter-House relationships are frowned upon by his fellow Slytherins. He sees the difference between what we can provide for him and what the other students have. The worst is the holidays. He sees all the other kids go home happily while he's stuck, unwanted, in a dingy home. Even people like Mr. Sirius Black, who is shunned by his family for being in Gryffindor, are better treated than Severus." She scowled at Albus, registering his ausement for the first time. She sternly said, voice dangerously low, "I fail to see how any of this can possibly be _amusing _or _entertaining_, Albus."

"You are rallying for his cause. Do you feel for him, Minerva?" Albus teased, trying to lighten the conversation.

Minerva's icy stare made him reconsider his words. He thought, for once, he had overstepped his bounds. She retreated further behind the schoolteacher's mask, displaying intense disapproval and disappointment. He had seen that same look on her face many times in the past two years, mostly directed at Mr. Potter and his friends. He shivered and realized they had probably deserved it.

At last, Minerva said, "Don't you?"

Albus was struck by her blunt and pointed question. He decided to tread lightly. "Well, of course, I, er, I thought…" he trailed off, lost for words.

She had him and she pounced. "You thought what? This is serious, Albus. He can not be left on his own to fall through the cracks. I don't want him to follow the same path as Tom did. Hogwarts can not afford to keep failing her students simply because the Headmaster is prejudiced and the teachers are too busy to notice when a student needs help. We can not lose Severus simply because we choose to let him make poor choices. We cannot let him think we feel that it is not our obligation to _interfere_ for the better of the student." She sneered as she used his words against him.

Albus gave her a knowing look.

"Stop that!" Minerva balked. "No, I am not infatuated with a student. And, as you'll recall, _Tom_ was infatuated with _me_, not the other way around! He was especially interested in me when he learned I am a half-blood." She collapsed further into the couch, exhausted from her argument. "Albus," she said in a weary voice. "I don't know how much longer I can fight for him on my own. I don't know how much longer he'll be able to last."

Albus was shocked by her display of emotions. Trying to recover his point, he asked meanly, "And what if a certain Slytherin has his eyes on you?"

Minerva sat up. "What do you mean?"

"Only that your efforts for equality have not gone wholly unnoticed."

She distrusted the twinkle in his eyes. Maybe he was just bluffing, teasing to lighten the air. Or maybe he was hinting at something. "If you mean that Horace HAS talked with you –"

"No, no, my dear. You mistake me. Of course Horace has talked with me about Mr. Snape and several other Slytherin-related issues." He smiled smugly, "It was my suggestion that Horace give Mr. Snape extra Potions assignments and let him help on weekends. I told Horace that if he talked with Filius and Pomona, they would probably give Mr. Snape extra assignments, too, in order for him to show that he did know what he was doing and therefore bring his grades up. I also suggested that Pomona and Horace allow Mr. Snape to grow potion ingredients in one of the greenhouses."

Minerva gasped. "Albus, you really did all that?"

Albus beamed. "Of course. My dear, I'm not completely blind. I'm also not as biased as some may think. Although, I must say, between you and Hagrid, Mr. Potter left Mr. Snape alone for most of last term, if I recall correctly. I can't say much for the behavior of Mr. Black and Mr. Pettigrew last term, but without Mr. Potter, they were – lacking."

Minerva tried to scowl, but instead a small, tight-lipped smile formed on her face. "I see."

Albus laughed. "As you can tell, many have seen what you have done. In particular, Mr. Snape himself. He has realized what you have done for him. And I think you'll find that, though he can not articulate it himself, he is very grateful to you. However, if you two were to talk, I have no doubt that he would either deny it, refuse to speak, or speak in monosyllables." Minerva's eyebrow shot up. Her smile faded as Albus continued, "Yes, I believe that Mr. Snape has made himself scarce around you to avoid your wrath. He appreciates that almost all of his classes are shared with Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw. Potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts are his favorite subjects, but Transfiguration is one of his favorite classes. He's doing very well, too. Have you noticed?" Albus's voice had softened considerably towards the end of his speech, causing Minerva to flush noticeably.

"I don't see what you mean at all, Albus," she scoffed.

"Come now, Minerva. Surely you've noticed that several of the young men here at Hogwarts have formed a crush on you? Over the past few years, I've seen several of them graduate, still infatuated with you."

Minerva blushed even more. "Well, certainly it is true that several are infatuated. But they remain infatuations only. Nothing more than that, thankfully."

Albus sighed. "My dear, you are very young, you are beautiful, and you aren't much older than the students who graduate from here." Minerva's blush deepened as she shot Albus a warning look over her teacup. "You must realize that, to the young Mr. Snape, you are a hero." Albus enjoyed watching her face turn from embarrassment to shock.

"You're not serious, are you?" she croaked, barely able to fathom what he was telling her.

Albus nodded. Getting up, he said, "And that is why you will be in charge of him until term starts next month."

Minerva was stunned. "What was that, Albus?"

"You know how Mr. Snape dreads going home during the summer?" Minerva nodded. "Well, his parents are no longer able to look after him and there is no orphanage willing to take him in. He needs a home." Minerva's mouth opened, but no sound escaped. Albus laughed at her comical expression. "Yes, my dear, the poor boy of your noble cause has no relations and nowhere to turn."

Minerva finally found her voice. "And how can we accomplish this?"

"Not we," Albus chuckled. "You."

Minerva stood up, realizing what Albus had done. "Fine. I will look after Severus. What do I need to do?"


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Again, not mine. Just wrote this piece...

A/N: Sorry it took so long for an update...here's the second part. I'm not quite sure whether the rating will change or not...Also, yes, this is AU. Clearly. However, I have no time to do math, so the ages are what they are. Message me if you wish to discuss, but I don't think it matters for this piece. This is less conversation, more prose. Not quite sure if this is less rushed, but I certainly hope so, in case anyone does feel the first chapter is a bit rushed...^^

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Chapter 2

Three months before...

It was the last week of school, the end of term. Soon, he would have to go back to a home that didn't want him, return to parents who didn't want him. Like a package sent back because of defects, he would be sent away from the one place he felt a little more like himself. Yet it was summer again, and he would have to work for no reason, refrain from using magic, and endure his punishments. The worst part was that he wouldn't be able to see a single friend – although he didn't really have friends. Not him. He was too hard a person to get along with, too hard a person for the majority of his peers to understand. Much like everything else in his life, this, too, seemed to be another thing he would be denied. He often wondered what it would be like to have a real friend. Someone he could confide in, someone to share secrets with, someone who would understand, but not pity him. No, he hated pity. He wanted someone to be silent and, for once in his life, listen to him. He wanted someone to share all his desires and fears. Someone who could accept him for what he was, without reservation. Someone like…

He slipped into a dream-like trance, unaware of his surroundings. A cool hand touched his forehead. A calm voice whispered in his ear. He felt at ease, his body relaxed. He had no idea who it was, although the touch and voice seemed to be feminine. He continued to lay, immobilized and uncaring, for a few more moments.

~ / ~

As the moments passed, a faint odor touched his nose: lavender. Only one woman he knew wore lavender-scented perfume. Groaning, he tried to sit up, only to have a light hand press his chest back down. For the first time, he felt something soft beneath him and realized he wasn't laying on grass, but soft cotton sheets. He was in a bed. Startled, he opened his eyes and blinked in surprise.

The Hospital Wing was large and quiet. Most of the beds were empty. His was located in a far corner, tucked away from the door. He tried to focus his eyes, but he felt as though the world was spinning. His gaze was strictly on the figure sitting next to his bed. The person was leaning over towards him, hand now resting on his shoulder. He could still feel the same cool touch on his shoulder as he had on his forehead earlier. He wasn't sure if he was wearing a shirt or if her touch was always like that, icy enough to be felt through clothing. He shivered involuntarily, causing the woman to move the blankets towards his chin and tuck them in more forcefully around his body. He wasn't sure if the woman used magic or performed the task manually since his eyes were still adjusting to his surroundings. Forcing his arms to move, he rubbed his eyes and tried to blink in an attempt to clear them, as if the mental fog he saw would dissipate by such a simple action.

His head pounded and hurt as if he had imbibed one too many butterbeers. He stared at the woman with drunk goggle eyes, not quite sure he was seeing her right. He attributed her odd appearance to his double vision. She was perched on the chair, looking a bit more disheveled than normal. Her face was concerned and she seemed to be saying something to him. He shook his head in an effort to indicate he didn't hear and to try to clear his ears.

She repeated, "Can you hear me? Do you know where you are?"

He blinked again, his expression still a mix of shock and surprise. He nodded and tried to speak. "Why are you here?"

It came out harsher than he had wanted, but he couldn't really control his voice.

The woman frowned, brow furrowing even more. His voice must have sounded odd, so he tried to clear his voice and speak again. Before he could try, the woman laid a cold hand on his mouth. "Don't push yourself, lad."

He nodded again and whispered, "Why am I here?"

She looked at him thoughtfully before answering, "You had fallen asleep by the lake. You were brought here –" she stopped abruptly, then continued. "Your belongings were brought as well. I wanted Madam Pomfrey to check you out, just in case." Her brow furrowed again. He didn't need to know everything now. "Rest is what you need. Term doesn't end for another week and a half. Are all your O.W.L.s done?"

He nodded yes, but really, owls? Was his mother okay? She was the only one he ever wrote to, although he never received any owls in return.

She saw his confusion and sighed. "I've talked with Professor Slughorn, your Head of House," she frowned again, as if Horace Slughorn was also in trouble. "He is working on a potion and I will watch you until he arrives. It should be later this afternoon."

Afternoon? he thought. "How long have I been here?" he rasped.

She leaned in further to hear him. When he repeated the question, she answered softly, "It's been two days already, lad." He was startled. "Easy now," she said calmly, placing her hands on his chest to ease him back down to the bed.

He hadn't noticed it before because he had been lying down, but his whole body felt numb every time he tried to sit up. He wondered if he would be able to sit up properly and how it had happened. He also wanted to know why it was her sitting with him and why she had looked so disdainful about Professor Slughorn. Although Slughorn was a true Potions Master, he often neglected students, especially if they were of little interest to him.

Not knowing what to do, he nodded and closed his eyes.

The woman relaxed in her chair a bit as he closed his eyes, keeping her hands on his chest. When she thought he was fully asleep, she moved to his shoulders and lightly rubbed his upper back. Whether she was attempting to relax him or comfort herself, she wasn't sure. It didn't seem to bother him, so she moved her hands towards his neck and then up to his face. She caressed his cheeks, rubbing the backs of her hands and her fingers across his face. She traced his angular jawline lightly, almost like a cat affectionately rubbing against her owner. She smiled at the thought and decided to try it out.

A few moments later, she was curled up on his shoulder, her brown– and gray-striped cat head nestled in the crook of his neck. In what she supposed would be called a dreamless slumber, he had wrapped his left arm around her body, fingers brushing through her fur. Occasionally he rubbed her fur with his face, no doubt some side effect of a dream, she believed. She would purr to quiet him, and he seemed to respond to her meows. She hoped he would have a nice, deep sleep. Her vigil so far had been quite terrifying. Even in cat form she could remember it, and her cat form usually repressed the majority of her human emotions and concerns.

~ / ~

_~ Three days before ~_

_She had just finished her last class when she happened to glance out of the window. She saw an encounter between the Marauders and the Slytherin. She saw the Marauders walk away and the Slytherin boy was left lying on the ground. She knew trouble when she saw it, so she had hurried down to the lake. Slipping his robe open at the top, she blanched and levitated him onto a stretcher she had magically conjured. He needed medical attention immediately._

_Poppy had been wonderful. She had been as unobtrusive as possible, asking as few questions as necessary, and was quick in fixing up the Slytherin. He would heal overnight, but Poppy warned that he would probably sleep for a few days. Between studying and the practical O.W.L.s, he would be drained of energy and needed to recuperate. Minerva nodded and told Poppy not to bother her. She would keep watch and alert the other witch if anything changed. Poppy laid a comforting hand on Minerva's shoulder and whispered, "It's not your fault, you know." Poppy left Minerva to keep vigil as there were other patients to attend - most had the flu or injuries from classes. None of them would stay overnight, but the sooner Poppy saw them, the more time Minerva would have alone with the Slytherin and the less eyes the better. Poppy always thought an empty infirmary, though not giving her work, was much preferred to a crowded Hospital Wing. After all, it was much easier to get well if there were fewer inquisitive students prying about._

_~ / ~_

_That first night had been horrible. He had tossed and turned, cried out in his sleep, and was shivering as if he was freezing. She had tried to soothe him by talking in a low voice. She placed a cool hand on his forehead and tried to force his arm and leg muscles to relax so he could breathe properly. When he turned in his sleep, she sat next to him on the bed and rubbed small circles on his back in an attempt to let him know that he wasn't alone. He turned back over and his arms had wound around her waist, as his body snuggled against hers._

_Fear swamped over her. What if someone came into the Hospital Wing? What if someone saw her lying there with one of her students? Panicking slightly, she tried to jerk away from his arms, only to have him clamp her closer to him. His arms were like a vice and his grip was incredibly strong. Gasping, she settled back down on the bed until his grasp lessened enough for her to breathe comfortably. She then remembered Poppy saying that no one would enter the Hospital Wing unless she let them in. And if someone tried to sneak in, she would know. It was comforting to know that Poppy had meant it, but Minerva was taking no chances._

_However, for this poor boy, she would take the risk. Settling back on the pillows, trying to ease the boy in his sleep to relax more, she lay on the bed. She had moved his right arm, but his left arm was still wrapped around her waist, his head resting on her stomach. He seemed to be in a deep sleep, but his breath was shallow. His eyelids fluttered occasionally, but he barely spoke or mumbled. Maybe once in the seven hours of sleep he said something, but she couldn't make out what it was. She wasn't sure, but now that he was physically touching her, he was peaceful. His face, which before had been contorted in pain, now bore something that resembled a smile. Maybe it was a smirk, but his expression was certainly more relaxed than previously. His whole body, in fact, had visibly relaxed. The muscles didn't stand out so much and his body was more limp than tense._

_She looked him over and was astonished to see how thin he was. Sure, she had always known him to be a skinny boy. Tall for his age, but thin and small compared to the others. He certainly would make a fine Seeker or Chaser for his agility and height, but definitely no Beater. Yet, she was surprised at his strength. She had always supposed him to be scrawny, but his arms had clamped on her body with such force that the wind had literally been knocked out of her lungs. She marveled at his form, now lying half on top of her, and felt a chill run through her. She had never been held like this before. If he knew, she was sure he would freak out and deny it entirely. He would be mad and probably hold a grudge against her for the rest of his life. He may not even take another class with her because of it. She sighed and tried to get some sleep herself._

_~ / ~_

_She woke up and carefully lifted herself up and out of the bed. She retreated to her rooms to get ready for another day of teaching. Making her way towards the Great Hall, she stopped in at the Hospital Wing once more. Walking to the only occupied bed, she promised the boy in a whisper that she would return as soon as possible. He seemed to mumble in his sleep, so she called Poppy and asked her to watch him when breakfast was over in the Great Hall. Poppy agreed, and the two witches had walked out together, gossiping about the various staff members and both lamenting Horace's tendency to be absent whenever he was truly needed. Laughing, they agreed that Horace had a talent for slipping away when Hogwarts needed him._

_~ / ~_

_Minerva returned when classes were over. She found Poppy in the Hospital Wing tending to some Quidditch players. Practice had apparently taken a rather less than appealing turn and, while trying out a new tactic, a Chaser, Beater, and Seeker had been injured. When Poppy was finished, and all three players had left, Minerva cleared her throat and looked at Poppy meaningfully. Poppy sighed and led Minerva to the Slytherin's bed._

_Minerva looked at the boy and asked if the diagnosis had been performed. Poppy replied that she had run several diagnostic spells. She had tended to his jinxes and hexes and any other injuries he had maintained over the past few months, but could only say that rest would heal him. She seemed more on edge and, upon Minerva's prodding, revealed that the boy had quite a few scars no magical diagnosis could explain nor heal. She had been able to ask Horace for a potion, however, and, answering Minerva's inquiring raised eyebrow, admitted that she had cornered him and asked in the most menacing tone possible. Laughing, Minerva agreed that that sounded more like the truth. Poppy admitted that it would take at least a day for Horace to have the results, though, since the potion was complicated. The ingredients were simple, but to prepare and boil each ingredient took time. Minerva furrowed her brow at this. She had never been particularly good at potions, but to hear that such a potion might be complicated ate at her thoughts._

_Poppy took the chance to bustle away, claiming the need to attend to some paperwork Albus had asked for, regarding the physicals of staff members. Mumbling something about paperwork herself, Minerva settled down in the chair and summoned her essays that had been awaiting her in her rooms. Although the fifth years had O.W.L.s, the other years still had homework. Minerva whistled softly as she wrote busily, keeping an eye on the sleeping boy. She kept milling over the potion Horace was supposedly preparing, wondering what it could be and why the steps might be so complicated. However, her lack of knowledge in Potions and Herbology prevented her from reaching any satisfactory conclusion._

_~ / ~_

_That second night wasn't as bad as the first. She knew what to do. Although he had tossed a bit during the day, it wasn't as bad as it had been the previous night. Before he could move, she settled herself in the bed, lying next to the boy, and let him feel her presence by gently stroking his hair. He moved towards her in his sleep and curled up against her, head resting on her stomach once more. His arms snaked around her: one around her waist, one around her neck. Not sure what to make of it, Minerva relaxed and breathed normally, hoping he would follow her lead. They lay that way for most of the night. He occasionally turned or moved, barely whispering little nothings. He didn't fuss and relaxed entirely when she held his body in both her arms, hands resting on his back._

_She knew it was wrong, but it felt right. Even though he was her student, she felt obliged to hold him and console him. To offer comfort and protection. He needed someone and that someone was her. Could she help it?_

_A nasty, little voice in her head sang out that she was lonely and wanted someone._

_Her eyes welled up at that thought. Angrily, she dashed away the imminent tears before they could fall from her eyes. Looking down at the young man lying in her arms, she cradled his head and thought about having children. If she could have children, yes, she'd want them. But the likelihood of that happening was zero to none. She laughed inwardly at the thought. Her job wouldn't allow her to meet many people outside of Hogwarts, and she certainly did not see herself leaving anytime soon. She supposed she might meet someone over the summer, but her sense of duty made it impossible for her to have a summer fling._

_Sighing, she realized she felt old, older than twenty-five. She felt like an old maid. But if that was the case, why did she feel something for this boy, this young man. True, he was in Slytherin, but she had always supposed that to be the fault of the despicable Sorting Hat. She had never liked the thing, but it was tradition to let it sort the incoming First Years, and she could neither argue with age-old traditions nor convince Albus to abandon them. She had been Albus's right-hand supporter from the beginning, but although he looked to her for advice and consul, he had never seen that the abominable tradition of the Sorting Hat needed to be abolished. He had allowed it to continue, and see what it had done? Minerva was sure that the young man next to her would have done well in Ravenclaw or Gryffindor. He certainly was no Hufflepuff, but then again, Hufflepuffs were highly underrated. Many were put down as being too wimpy or not good enough. Yet many had excelled. Just look at Poppy and Pomona. They were both excellent examples of Hufflepuffs, Minerva thought, nodding unconsciously._

_A single tear fell down and landed on the young man's cheek at the thought of the Sorting Hat's mistake. Desperately wiping her eyes, Minerva tried to gently wipe the droplet from the boy's face without waking him. Stupid, she thought, giving up after several attempts. She didn't want to prod him too much for fear of disturbing the boy, but that single darned tear had trailed down his face and onto his shirt. Embarrassed, she shifted, lay back, dismissed the thought, and tried to grab some sleep while she still had the chance. She hoped he wouldn't notice, as Poppy had said there would be little chance of him waking before noon._

_Once more at dawn, she extracted herself from the gentle embrace and made her way to her rooms. She got ready for the new day and returned to the Hospital Wing. Whispering comforting words to the boy, she called to Poppy and talked jovially with the other witch about the doings of Hogwarts and what the Daily Prophet was reporting. Walking together, side by side, towards the Great Hall, they discussed whether it was true or not that the murders were organized crime or haphazard wizard killings._

~ / ~

He woke up hours later with his arms around a very pretty gray and brown tabby. Blinking, he at first didn't know where he was, too drowsy to think. After laying with his eyes open for a few more moments, he remembered his earlier conversation and sat up quickly, startling the cat into alert wakefulness with his sudden motions. Apologizing to the cat, he picked it up gently, set it in his lap and pet it.

The cat purred appreciatively and relaxed once more, reclining in his lap. Her head nuzzled against his hand as he stroked her fur.

He whispered to the cat and confided in the feline as though he were writing in a journal or diary. He spoke of his fears and dreams, his goals and ambitions, his cowardice and his shame. He spoke of all the times the Marauders had confronted him and of his regret that he hadn't backed away or that he wasn't good enough to beat them. He ground his teeth and spit out that he knew he was better than them because he got better grades, but he could never surpass them in their little contests. He gritted his teeth and admitted that Lily was what he thought he wanted, but after their fight and her behavior, he realized she, too, was something he could never have. He didn't understand her, and he was bitterly glad that she had chosen the Marauders over him.

A sad chord struck his voice and he froze, caught between tears and frustrated anger. The cat meowed softly and jumped up onto his shoulder, settling around his neck. The cat's tongue licked his neck soothingly, while her head nudged his chin playfully. The boy giggled when the cat began to nibble and lick his ear. It felt odd for him to giggle and laugh, for him to smile and feel giddy with pleasure. It was an odd feeling, this happiness, although he was sure it would be a fleeting sensation. For the time being, he enjoyed it. This would be a night he would remember.


End file.
